


You're my Mama

by Madame_Xela



Series: The Brothers Ri drabbles [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Kíli should just keep his mouth shut, Ori doesn't know his parents, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 21:19:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Xela/pseuds/Madame_Xela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dori is Ori's Mama, and if he's not then Ori doesn't have one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're my Mama

They are barely twenty when the questions start.

“Where’s your Mumma?” It is the younger prince, impulsive and intrusive, who starts the questions. It’s during one of their many play dates and Kíli hangs upside-down from a tree branch while Fíli and Ori watch from the ground.

Instead of being the responsible one and telling his brother to mind his own business, Fíli looks intrigued.

“Dori’s my Mama.” Ori replied as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He picked up a rock and threw it into the trees.

“Don’ be ‘tupid. He can’t be your Mumma.”

“Why not?!”

“’Cause he’s a _boy_. Boys can’t be Mummas.” This time, it’s Fíli.

“Well, he is.”

And then the boys went off about how Dori couldn’t be a Mumma because he’s a boy and your brother, unless he’s really a girl but you’d tell us right Ori? And Ori _had_ to have a Mumma somewhere, so where is she Ori? Did she die? Did she leave? Does Dori keep her in the house all of the time ‘cause she’s sick?

“I DON’ HAVE A MAMA THEN ‘CAUSE IF DORI’S S’NOT MY MAMA THEN I DON’T HAVE ONE!” And with that, the little ginger-haired dwarf ran off through the trees and back home.

*

Dori wanted to cry. Ori had been locked away in his room for two hours, bawling his eyes out and whenever Dori tried to talk to him he would yell or refuse to talk.

Never before had this happened. Maybe once in a while Ori would get upset but he would go to Dori and tell him everything that was on his mind. They would cuddle in front of the fire with tea (because who could turn down a good cup of chamomile?) and Dori would read a story and everything would be better.

That couldn’t happen if Ori wouldn’t talk to him.

*

Twenty minutes later he gets a visit from Balin and the Princess. They sit him down and explain to him what Fíli and Kíli told them; Balin clasped a hand on the younger’s shoulder as he promised to explain the situation to the boys while Dís apologized and asked about Ori.

‘He’s fine’ He wanted to say. But he couldn’t. Not until he spoke to his dear brother.  

*

“Ori, love, can I talk to you?” he asked, sitting on the edge of Ori’s bed.

“No! Go away!”

“I heard about what happened today. Do you want to talk about it?”

Ori sniffed into his pillow. For a second it seemed like Ori was going to tell him to go away again. Yet his baby brother got up and crawled onto Dori’s lap. “Fíli and Kíli said I don’ have a Mama. An’ t’ey didn’ list’n when I said you’re my Mama.”

Dori felt his throat close. True, Ori called him Mama, but for him to be considered his mother…it brought tears to his eyes. “O-oh love. I’m honored, really, but you know I’m your brother too, right?”

His brother nodded. “’Course I do. M’not that ‘tupid. But you’re m’Mama ‘cause I don’t gots one.”

 Oh how that hurt. It was like someone had grasped his heart and squeezed until it shattered. “Oh…oh my love. You do have a Mama.” Dori spent the next several hours telling Ori about their mother. About how beautiful she was, how intelligent and well-read she was. “You remind me of her, actually. You have Father’s hair, but other than that you are the spitting image…” Mother was also very strong. Not as strong as Father and Dori, but far stronger than most dwarves. But she didn’t like to flaunt it. When Dori was younger, he and father would arm wrestle in public and Mother would tut and lift baby Nori up a little higher on her hip and tell them to behave. At home she would tut and proceed to show Dori several techniques to beat Father (several of them were dirty and underhanded and Dori had to promise never to use those outside of the house). What mother really loved, more than the gems that Father brought her and the dresses he made, was drawing.

“Me too!” In his excitement, Ori had jumped and smacked Dori in the face. He apologized several times, but his Mama simply smiled.

“Yes, I know. And she would have been so proud of you, my love.”

*

The next morning, Ori was not in his room. Or in Dori’s ‘office’. Or the kitchen. The elder Ri brother would have been worried if he hadn’t seen a blur of beige and ginger run from Ori’s bedroom to the door.

Silently, Dori followed.

Near their house was a thick pine tree. It provided plenty of shade when the sun was high, and when it started going down it provided enough sunlight to keep anyone under the tree warm. Ori claimed it as ‘his’ spot the moment that he could pick up a stick of wax.

“Mummy…Mama says you’re boo’tiful so you hafta look like him…’cause Mama’s boo’tiful. But Mama says I look like you…hmm…didya have orange hair too?No…Mama says I have Daddy’s hair. Didya have brown like Mama?”

Dori couldn’t take it anymore. He sat down next to his brother and moved his fingers around their mother’s face. “That she did, my love. And she had a beard down to here, but split it in two and braided it into a crown around her head.”

“Did she wear beads?”

“Of course!”

When Nori stumbled home later that evening the dinner table was completely covered in parchment with wax drawings of himself and his brothers and…was that Mother?

“No-No! Look! I drew Mummy an’ Daddy ‘cause I have ‘em!”

_What_? “Of course you do, squirt. Why would you…” Dori furiously shook his head, making slashing motions at his throat to get his brother to stop asking that question. Oh they would definitely be talking about that later. “Why don’t you show me all of the pictures you drew.”

“Okay! Mama help ‘cause I don’ ‘member what Mummy an’ Daddy look like…”Ori trailed off as he started pulling the parchment closer and showed his brother each little drawing. What he thought was only a few dozen pictures was actually a pile just shy of one hundred. All of them were of their little family, including their parents.

“That’s Mummy an’ Daddy arm wres-tle-ing. There’s Mama an’ you as babies! An’ this is Mummy an’ Daddy givin’ me hugs an’ kisses like Mama does. Mama says that t’ey taught him the special hugs he gives us when we feel sad…”

Nori asked to keep the one where all five of them were eating dinner together.

*

The next morning, barely after breakfast, Fíli and Kíli knocked at the door. They were crying and barely coherent, but Dori got the gist of what they were trying to tell him. They were so-so-so-so sorry Mister Dori, they didn’t mean to be so mean to their best friend. Were they still friends Mister Dori? Or did Ori hate them? It’s okay if he did, they hate themselves too, so-

“Boys, he doesn’t hate you.”

“No?” Fíli asked in a soft voice.

“No, of course he doesn’t. Now, come on in. He’s drawing in the kitchen.” The boys didn’t seem to believe him, but they followed him to the other room, one of their little hands wrapped in each of his.

When they reached the kitchen, Ori looked up from his newest drawing and grinned. “Hi guys! I have pictures of my Mummy an’ Daddy! Do ya want t’see?” He slipped off of his chair (knocking over the books that he used to sit on) and pulled them into his room, showing them each picture of his family that he made the day before and telling them the stories behind them.

For the rest of the day, Dori would hear things like ‘Your Mummy is so pretty!’ or ‘Can Dori or Nori teach us that?’ or ‘Your Daddy looks like Nori with his hair down. Are you sure he’s not your Daddy?’ coming from his brother’s room. It was cute, but there was one thing that the princes said that really struck a chord.

“We’re sorry ‘bout what we said, Ori. We didn’ mean t’be mean, an’ if you think Dori’s your Mumma, then he is!” 

**Author's Note:**

> I am not sorry.


End file.
